


and though i can't recall your face (i still got love for you)

by biochemprincess



Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: Gen, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biochemprincess/pseuds/biochemprincess
Summary: "Kinda wanted to get to know my big brother," she said. Her tone was nonchalant, but her fingers drumming against the side of the table nervously spoke a different language. Flick was waiting for his reaction."Lord, so they really do have another one," is all Athan managed to reply in shock.
Relationships: Athan Cole & Original Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	and though i can't recall your face (i still got love for you)

**Author's Note:**

> title from seven by taylor swift. (once again a huge thank you to tswift for releasing folklore and curing my writer's block.)
> 
> just imagine cass and cole had another kid after athan and run with it. i tried to keep the timeline intact. written for an audience of three people, but what's new.

_New York, 1918_

Athan Cole enjoyed visiting "interesting times". 

Not necessarily living in them for longer periods of time, as people tended to get infinitely more stupid as they were faced with uncertainty. But in general, it was a fascinating course in human nature, an in vivo autopsy of action and reaction unravelling in real time before him.

The harsh winds of autumn carried him through the dark and empty streets. Many bars and other establishments were closed, their patrons keeping to themselves. Athan's own face was hidden behind a thick scarf. 

He knew for a fact that he had a robust immunity against the Kalavirus, a benefit he would only need many years into the future. But here and now, smack in the middle of the second wave of the Spanish Flu he couldn't risk an infection, he may not survive it. 

The war had killed thousands of soldiers, wounded and starved from the great war that would one day not far away be surpassed, and the disease reaped the rest of them. And they couldn't even shoot them with their rifles, the enemy invisible.

He turned left on the uneven cobblestone streets, heading towards the water of the river. The entire city smelled of the dead lining up to be buried in mass graves, so he might as well enjoy the sight.

The Brooklyn Bridge was a fix point suspended in air, just as imposing then as it would be centuries later. Athan didn't have a specific destination in mind, only the restlessness of insomnia carrying him through the night. 

Of course he noticed the woman leaning against the railings of the bridge, noticed how she was without company after dark, how her dress was just too loose and a tad to long to belong to her. There was no mask covering her face. And, worst of all, she wore a beanie. She was very obviously trying to blend in and failed miserably.

Athan passed her with a nod. Waiting what she'd do. And sure enough as he made his way over the bridge heading into the city she fell into step with him. His hand closed around the dagger in his coat pocket. 

"Aren't you sick of pandemics?" she asked without preamble.

"Always a chance to learn more."

She scoffed. "What are you trying to understand? The fear and hysteria in the face of being objected to situations out of your hands?"

It's not as he'd have phrased it, but not that far off either. 

"And your point is?" Athan asked, slightly aggravated now. 

"Just because there's car crash you don't have to watch it happen. You may not be allowed to intervene, but do you have to make it worse?"

If he wasn't sure about the woman being a time traveller before, this was his answer. She was young, barely out of her teenage years, but there was little else he was able to discern about her in the dark.

"Am I making it worse by letting history take its course?" 

"Maybe you're meant to make a lasting impression," she suggested. 

Athan was almost fascinated by her bold approach to the subject, he found. Yet the conversation left him puzzled. She hadn't attacked him yet. 

"And what's your part in history?" 

Silence spread between them, but she didn't reply. 

"Why don't we continue this conversation in a nicer place?" she asked. "A better time?"

He noticed the soft light gleaming underneath the fabric of her dress, the bulky form. A vest just like his own. 

"Do you honestly think I'll let you ambush me?"

She laughed out so loud, it echoed against the metal. "If I wanted you dead you'd already be, trust me."

Athan doubted it, but kept quiet.

"Let's get brunch somewhere nice," she said. 

He didn't want to, but he was a curious man. He had never met another traveller in the wild, or so to speak. He only knew the Army, only knew Magdalena and Sebastian. 

"When?" 

"I always wanted to see Vienna. Let's say 2012, because I really want some comfort and the internet back. Let's make it June 1st, St. Stephan's Cathedral, 9 sharp?"

Despite himself he nodded in agreement. He was never one to let a mystery untouched. 

"See you then," she said, pushed the button on her vest and was gone. 

Athan was left with a plethora of questions, itching to find the corresponding answers. And he didn't even know your name. 

* * *

  
_Vienna, 2012_

Like most European cities Vienna was a melting pot of old and new. In the distance skyscrapers rose high into the sky and underneath the ground the subway connected almost the entire city.

But the past was preserved like an instinct in a case of glass. Churches and castle, museums and statues were found everywhere. Horse carriages drove tourists around if they just dropped enough cash. 

The day was warm, even in the early morning. The place before the cathedral was already bustling with people, most of them tourists. Athan waited on the sidelines in the shadows. 

"You're late," Athan announced when she finally appeared next to him.

In broad daylight he finally had a chance to take a closer look at her. Her long blonde hair was braided into a tail over shoulder. She wore a short black dress with tiny yellow flowers and boots too warm for the weather; made for a quick departure. 

She made a show of checking the watch on her wrist. "By five minutes!" 

"You are in possession of a time machine, there's literally no reason for excuses."

She sighed so loudly and deeply, he thought she might collapse like a balloon losing air. 

"Let's go, I know a place," she said. Athan followed her turning right on the corner and down the street.

"What's your name?"

"Felicity, but please call me Flick."

"Are you a horse?"

Felicity turned to look at him and rolled her eyes. "No, but you're a huge dick and your name's not Richard."

Athan, for what was maybe the fourth time in his life, was left completely speechless. 

They walked for maybe another fives minutes, until they reached a hotel. Felicity entered first, but walked past the from desk to the elevators. They rode up to the 17th floor. 

As the doors opened Athan found himself in a restaurant with a fantastic outlook over the city, the walls made entirely of glass. Everything in the room screamed fancy dining.

"Don't worry, I'm paying," Flick said. Athan decided that maybe, he'd need to invest in a counter to measure his lack of words around this stranger. 

"Not the point, Horse girl."

Felicity headed towards a table without any care, as if she owned the place. He admired that.

The menu was printed on heavy paper, in German of course. Luckily he spoke a few basics. 

Athan skimmed over it, before deciding on an omelette and a black coffee. 

"I'll have pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream and a pomegranate coconut smoothie," Flick told the waiter. Then, directed at Athan she said, "You're so boring."

"And you're trying to win best Manic Pixie Girl, or what?"

"Nope, just enjoying the finer sides of life whenever I have access to them."

"No reason to get used to something that's not permanent," Athan said.

Felicity's gaze softened. Her eyes were a familiar shade of light blue-green. He could make an educated guess about her identity and he was 99 percent sure he'd be right. But Athan didn't even dare think about it too loud in the safety of his own brain, because he didn't like the implication of it.

"Your life doesn't have to be a punishment 24/7. You're allowed to have fun once in a while, you know?"

He wanted to retort that he did, but it would be to no avail. He didn't really believe it himself. 

Athan changed the topic swiftly. "So pray tell, why are we having breakfast together?"

"We are members of the human races who need nutrients and I'm starving," Felicity grinned from one ear to the other.

"Smartass."

"Kinda wanted to get to know my big brother," she said. Her tone was nonchalant, but her fingers drumming against the side of the table nervously spoke a different language. Flick was waiting for his reaction. 

"Lord, so they really do have another one," is all Athan managed to reply in shock. 

"I'm just as surprised as you they went through with it, given that your entire existence is not really a success story."

"And your qualities excel mine where exactly?"

Felicity pushed back a strand of stray hair behind her ears. "I'm both better looking and a lot friendlier than you. I'd win favourite child, if it came down to it."

He chose to ignore her statement with a deep sigh. He was the better person, he had the higher ground. And everything about Flick told him she wanted to rile him up. 

"What's your timeline?" he asked.

"I was born and now I'm here," she said.

Athan wasn't sure if he'd get through the entire breakfast with her or if he'd throttle her before they served coffee. 

"Felicity."

She twisted her mouth. "Could you not call me that?"

"Would you be serious for even one moment?"

Flick opened her mouth, but before she could say anything the server returned with their food and beverages.

"Can we eat first and talk later?" 

Athan nodded in agreement, only because he knew it would be a lost cause to die on this hill. And because he too was hungry for better food than the early, war-riddled 20th century had to offer.

The omelette was good and the coffee even better, but his attention lay elsewhere. A lot could be told from the way people ate their food. Flick ate like a feral wildcat, starved and ready to pounce at anyone who dared to take it away from her. 

"Has anyone ever taught you manners or did James raise you all on his own?" Athan asked eventually, when he couldn't leave the massacre happening on her plate without comment anymore. 

"Neither Mum nor Dad raised me," Flick mumbled through a mouth full of pancake and smoothie. There was maple syrup in the corner of her mouth.

Athan waited for further explanation, but nothing came. "Do I have to find out myself? Is this a riddle I'm expected to solve?"

"I do not expect anything. You asked a question and I gave an answer," she replied. 

"You are the one seeking me out, not the other way around." 

"Doesn't mean you have to go straight for blood in the first round, Attie."

Athan couldn't believe his ears. "What would be agreeable for the young lady then, huh? Should we talk about our favourite colours?"

"I don't know, yes maybe," Flick said, visibly agitated now. She ran a hand through her hair. "Would it be so bad to forget the war that bore us for just one moment?"

Athan could see now that most, if not all, of her self esteem was for sure. She was just an insecure girl, sitting in front of the only person she could trust without destroying the timeline.

He took another sip of his coffee. "Bottle green, the colour of a needle trees." 

Flick looked up, surprise colouring her features. "Not black?"

"I'm not a caricature."

"Mine's this insane mix of purple and pink and orange at twilight, just as the sunk sinks behind the horizon, when the clouds look so much bigger and the air smells like the night about to dawn upon," she said. 

The thing was, Athan believed her. All of her story, without evidence. And it made him recklessly stupid. But he couldn't stop. He pitied her, he realised. For still having any kind of hope left when there was none to find. 

Athan, _the immortal one_. Felicity, _happiness_. Greek and Latin, the languages of medicine. Their mother had bestowed her greatest wishes upon them in the only way she knew how. A failure on so many accounts. 

A slurping noise brought him back to the present. Flick drank the last of her smoothie through her straw quite audibly. 

"Manners are free," Athan offered. 

"So is shutting up," Felicity replied. 

They finished the meal in silence. Then they did nothing but look at each other. Athan catalogued the characteristics they shared, but came up almost empty. Both her eyes and hair were far lighter than his, her body small and tanned. They were nothing alike. 

"This was nice, we should do it more often," she said. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes. See it as a team-building exercise."

"Are we a team?" Athan questioned.

Hurt passed over Flick's face, but was quickly replaced by a small smile. "We could be." 

Athan wasn't like this, usually. And he didn't want to be really.

He cared little for other people's feelings - nobody had ever cared about his own so why start now. But a part of him didn't want to disappoint the girl that was his sister. 

"Give me your phone," he said.

Felicity pulled a smartphone out of her little bag and handed it to him. It was at least 5 years ahead of their current time, possibly released right before the collapse of society. 

He typed the date and coordinates into the notes app and gave it back. 

"See you then?" she asked tentatively, hopeful.

"Yes, Felicity." 

"Ugh, don't call me that," she moaned, but with laughter and just a bit out of breath. 

As if she'd just won a race, taken home an important victory. As if having a civil dialogue with him was worth its weight in gold. 

Maybe it was.

* * *

_Stockholm, 1990_

The white sphere rising high before him was quite a sight to behold. It represented the sun and it succeeded in making one feel small in comparison. The sky was overcast with countless of clouds, it was an eerie picture to behold. 

"Holy shit," Felicity exclaimed as she appeared next to him. 

"Welcome to the Stockholm Globe Arena," Athan said in greeting. 

"What's happening here today?"

"Did you not look it up?"

"And ruin the surprise for me? Nope." 

Her faith was refreshing, if naive. And naivete got you killed. He didn't ponder the implicit trust she must have in him. "Stockholm Open. Tennis. Becker versus Edberg." 

Flick wrinkled her forehead. "Why here?"

"Why not?"

Felicity realised it was as good as any other explanation she'd get from him and dropped the subject. Smart move. "I mean I know the reason, it's October in Scandinavia," she said and gestured at him in general and his coat in particular.

Athan looked down on himself. Black shoes, black trousers, black coat. It was true, he hated summer. "Problem?"

His sister shook her head. "Nah, I'm just not at all surprised you're too good to sweat." 

"Let's get inside," he said. She got on his last nerve. Secretly he didn't mind so much. Nobody before had ever cared enough to tease him in the first place.

He showed the tickets at the entrance. The security details were almost nonexistent, save for a quick check of Flick's small bag. It was a different time, and it showed. 

People had terrible hairstyles, wore gold necklaces around their throats and sweatbands on their wrists. But then Athan had yet to find a time without revolting styling choices and the coming generations thinking they were better than the ones before them. 

They found their seats, cramped in between a crowd of people. 

"It's weird," Felicity said, "seeing so many people in the same place." 

"Yes." 

The plastic seats they sat on were uncomfortable, but didn't matter much. When the players entered the field tension rose, the excitement palpable in the air. 

Sport had a way of bringing people together.

Athan looked over at Felicity. "Are you into sports?"

"Do you count survival training and robbing sport?"

"Not Olympic, so no."

A laugh burst from her mouth. "It's a no then. Sports not much of a thing when I'm from."

"When are you from?" Curiosity had him ask.

She glanced left and right, but shook her head. "Not here."

They concentrated on the game afterwards; Felicity uncannily silent. Even though it was Edberg's home court he stood no chance against Becker, losing all three set. 

"That was fun," Flick said after the game as they found themselves in front of the huge white Globe Arena again. 

Athan nodded.

"Look," she started, scratching her wool beanie in the process, "we can talk about my weird and messy childhood another time. When there's not a bunch of super smart, English speaking Scandinavians surrounding us."

This time it was her to set the appointment. She shoved a slip of paper from her coat pocket into his fingers. 

"The next meeting point?" he guessed.

"Yes. See you then?"

Athan swallowed and suppressed a sigh. He didn't think it was wise to continue these "meetings". Felicity may be his sister, but that was all they had in common. Some shared DNA from two people who apparently couldn't be stopped copulating if the fate of the world depended on it. 

"I'll be there." 

And Flick's eyes lit up like fireworks. 

* * *

_Greece, 2005_

They had never agreed to go to their meeting points back to back. And it wouldn't be feasible anyway. But somehow Athan had let four months pass between Stockholm and now, not ready to see her again right away.

Was this how relationships between siblings worked? He had not fix point to base his observations on. 

But Athan knew one thing: Flick'd picked this time and place out of spite, to drive him into shorts, flip flops and ugly shirts. 

Well, he did wear summer appropriate clothes so she had won.

But then he saw her sitting on the rocks, right as the waves met the shore. Sea spray dispensed into the air. Felicity didn't move as the droplets hit her. Her gaze was fixed on the sea, on the horizon, on the sun setting and painting the sky orange. 

She was as still as a marble statue, the little mermaid come to life.

Athan wondered not for the first time, if how she'd grown up had shaped her the way his upbringing had shaped him, and it made him even more curious about her story. Nature versus nurture. 

Felicity turned around then, either hearing his quiet approach or sensing his general presence. She bit her lip at the sight of him.

"For the record, I hate you," Athan said.

"Can I take a picture? You look like one of the Dads in Mamma Mia."

"Be quiet and lead the way."

She took the hint and walked right on the sandy beach of the island in the Mediterranean Sea. Athan didn't know which one it was exactly. A few minutes away they found a restaurant right at the sea. The evening was still rather young and so it was relatively empty, save for a few tourists who couldn't shake their early eating schedule.

The terrace was mostly wooden, with a fantastic view over the sea and the sunset. If you stayed here long enough you could forget the real world and its trials. 

The menu was catering to the touristic crows and had the English translation written in cursive script under the dishes. 

"Why do you always have us eat together?" Athan asked.

Felicity considered the question. "Simple. I like food. Also sharing food is an important cultural aspect of human society. It shows kinship." 

"I see." 

Before the waiter arriving at their table even uttered a word, he'd placed two shot glasses of Ouzo in front of them. Only then did he greet them and took their orders. 

"I'll have Feta saganaki as a starter and Moussaka," Flick said. 

"Gyros plate with pita and tzatziki, please." 

When they were alone again, Athan steered the topic to where they'd left it in Stockholm. 

"You still owe an answer."

Felicity raised an eyebrow. "What my super secret origin story?"

Athan shrugged. "Whatever you want to call it."

"You're annoying," Felicity said with a sigh. "I don't even know what year I was born exactly. But Jennifer said they brought me to her when I was roughly a year old. From then on I grew up with the Daughters. They taught me how to fight, how to hunt. They were my family." 

"The same Daughters that raised our grandmother?" Athan was surprised Felicity hadn't lied in Vienna, surprised their parents hadn't kept her with them, given his own fate. But safety must've outweighed their wishes, he concluded. 

He could see it better now, the same wariness and energy constantly thrumming through James reflected in Felicity. Bred in the apocalypse, tasked to rummage through the aftermath, just another one in a group, always on the run.

Still a better childhood than his own, Athan thought with a thorn of bitterness. 

Felicity nodded. "Hannah and I, we were as close as sisters."

"How did you end up here?"

"Jennifer told me the secrets of my life over time, but only on the basis of treasuring them with it. I couldn't tell Hannah a word, or I'd disrupt the timeline. And then one day she presented me with a vest that allowed me to travel through time and the choice to freely do so, if I pleased. So I did." 

Felicity looked out at the sea, watching the waves with intensity. As if water would stop moving if she looked way. As if she didn't dare face him.

"Have you met them?" Athan asked, no need to specify who he was talking about. She hummed something he took as a yes. 

"I went partying with Mum once when she was still in med school," Flick said. "And I once volunteered in the foster home Dad was in as a kid, before the whole pandemic shit started. Didn't dare getting any closer." 

He understood. "Plausible deniability, a drunk woman and young boy." 

She looked up then and shrugged her shoulders. "No need for unnecessary risks. What about you?"

"Only James, once." Athan didn't want to speak about it. The encounter had been different than he'd expected and he still couldn't put it into words. His father - their father - was a product of circumstances beyond his control. 

"Why not Mum too? Scared she won't live up to your high expectations?" 

Now it was Athan's turn to shrug. Though she'd nailed it on the head. 

He had not a single memory of Cassandra. With James it was different, the image of a gun pointed at his head imprinted in his mind forever. But her - she was a blank slate and he was too scared to fill it with something he might be disappointed in. 

"What is there to gain from something forever outside your reach?" Athan asked. 

"Peace," Flick answered quick as lightning. 

He didn't agree with her, but he didn't want to start a fight. The smell of food and sea salt hung in the air.

"What are we doing the next time? I wanna do something fun, like be part of an archaeological dig."

"It's my turn to choose, isn't it," he said.

"Sure, but have you never wanted to venture into a Pyramid and find a mummy, or so?" 

"Europeans have exported mummy's and ate them to help against whatever ailment has plagued them," Athan told her. He took great pleasure in the shocked grimace on his sister's face. Payback for the unwanted summer he had to participate in.

"Gross, no."

"I'd never lie about the cruelty of human nature." 

"Fine. Pick whatever you want," Felicity gave in. 

Their food arriving ended that particular conversation. And they sat together until the stars twinkled in distant galaxies.

And for the first time in his life, Athan had found a true friend. 

* * *

There were so many more meetings in between. Days and hours and minutes spent getting to know each other. With time it felt as if they'd known each other forever. They never asked were the other went in between those date all over the world and time. And it didn't matter. 

_(Reykjavik, 1975_

_"Where are we," Athan asked. He had to speak loudly to be heard of the noise. He stood in a crowd of thousands, all women. It was cold, but nobody seemed to care. Banners and posters were held high everywhere around them._

_"The long Friday. The women of Iceland are on a strike. The demand equal pay and simply stopped working. In their jobs and at home."_

_"And what are we doing?"_

_Flick raised a shield of her own. She must've either stolen it or she had a hidden linguistic talent, because it was written in Islandic. "Supporting them, of course.")_

_(Paris, 1783_

_"What in the fresh hell are we doing here?" Felicity adjusted her wig and pulled at her corset. She looked positively read to murder him._

_"This is the court of Marie Antoinette. She's giving one of her famous parties tonight," Athan said._

_"Yes?"_

_"I've always wanted to attend, my dearest sister," Athan mocked her._

_"Shut up or I'll save you a spot at the guillotine in a few years.")_

_(Rome, 2010_

_It wasn't as hot as Italy could be, but a passing glance at a daily newspaper told him it was early May. It was a beautiful day, even he could admit that._

_"What happened today?"_

_Felicity held two cones of ice cream in her hands already. "Nothing, I think. Not here. I just wanted some gelato and calm."_

_Athan took the cone she held out to him. Pistachio. "Thank you, Flick.")_

And then his vest broke.

* * *

_London, 1891_

"You need to stop resetting the timeline, Athan."

He stopped his pacing in the ice cold funeral hall, Eliza's coffin still propped open and decorated with more flowers than one would need in an entire life and much less in the afterlife. The petals were red, red as blood. Jasmine and lavender alone didn't cut it anymore. Not after 607 times of losing her. 

Athan saw Felicity standing behind him. She was dressed in all black, a grim reaper of a different kind, her hair open for once. She'd never looked more like their mother, like Hannah too. He'd never hated more than in that moment. 

"How did you find me?"

"Do you think you're the only one who sees death?" she asked. "We're cut from the same cloth." 

Athan wanted to deny it, any relations that bound them together. But he knew she was Primary too, knew Jennifer had raised her, taught her. Felicity may be even more skilled than him.

Realisation had his blood run cold. 

"So did you always know then?" Athan asked. The seething anger inside him grew into a storm, a hurricane on the sea waiting to reach land and wrack havoc. 

Flick stared at him so intently she could burn holes into his skin. Her own face was white as ash. She nodded. 

"Get out!" he yelled. 

"No," she answered calmly, weathering the storm of his emotions. 

"What's your part in history?" 

The grief took hold of him once more, grinding him through a maelstrom of pain and despair. Athan looked at her, waiting for her to make up an answer on the spot. 

"Maybe I'm just meant to be your friend," Felicity said. Tears shone in her eyes, for him. "Maybe we aren't meant to be all alone." 

For a second her words managed to permeate the haze of his loss, but they weren't met with approval. He didn't want to be her friend. He wanted Eliza back, he wanted to fight against the cruelty of fate. Athan needed to know his destiny lay in his own hands, for himself to decide. 

"I was created for loneliness." 

"Nobody is meant to walk alone," Felicity said. "And I will not watch while you ruin yourself."

"Then leave," he shouted at her.

"This is not what Eliza would've wanted." 

"You do not know her! You do not get to pass judgement." 

"Some things cannot be changed." The finality in her voice broke him for good. 

Athan took one of the heavy candles and threw them at the walls. He didn't aim for her directly, just needed an outlet for his failure to protect the woman he loved. 

"You and I are nothing, Felicity. We are nothing but a cosmic mistake and I'll make time regret letting me stay alive. And you can either help me or you can go down with it." He was beyond reasoning, he knew, but he didn't care. 

She was with him or against him.

"Athan." Felicity was crying in earnest now. "Don't make me. Let us find a different way." 

Everything clicked into place. Fate didn't care for anything. He didn't matter. Even his own sister would leave him behind. _We could be a team_. So much for that. 

"I never want to see you again," Athan said. He meant it. 

He pushed the button on his vest. He splintered. 

The fuzzy image of Felicity - dressed all in black, face ashen, grief-stricken - didn't leave his mind. (She'd never looked more like him.) 

* * *

_Titan, 1959_

He knew his mission, he knew he would not make it out alive. 

_"Please, Mother, go."_

He had to get Cassandra away, had to get her out of here alive. This would be the end of his cycle, but not hers. She had to keep on fighting, had to keep living. For him, for Felicity. 

He wished he could ask for forgiveness, regretted the cruelty he'd thrown at her the last time he'd seen her - _for the last time_. 

Maybe they could be saved, maybe they could meet again in another life.

_(just him as a teenager in his worst emo phase seeking solitude and a bright eyed little girl with pigtails who wouldn't stop pestering him until he rode down the hill behind their house with her until their mother called for dinner)_

Gunfire drowned out the noise of his own thoughts, the glimpses shown to him. He hoped she would forgive him for the words he'd thrown at her in his rage, sharp as daggers. That she knew he was sorry for what kind of man he was. 

As Athan stood before Olivia, as he mocked her to the point of his own destruction, as his last seconds ticked away like sand running through an hourglass, he thought about his family. 

James, his grim determination and the undying love he felt for his wife. Cassandra, her blood-stained healer's hands and the simmering rage right behind her heart. Felicity, her cheerful personality and absolute refusal to lose hope in the darkest of times. 

In his last moments, their faces vanished from his mind, but it didn't matter anymore. The memories were lasting. 

_Death can be undone, love cannot._

And then he was gone. 


End file.
